Page 8 of Nocte

Watching him now, Day and I couldn’t be further apart in both stature and status. He is so beautiful, destined to head house Aurelius, with his rightful counterpart beside him.

That is the one miracle of my birth, one could say. Poor Day wasn’t born alone without a half to share his future with. Upon that fateful hour, the house of Aurelius was rewarded with two healthy fae children suitable to uphold the family name.

And one shameful spare.

Pairs are inherent to the fae. Like the night and its lover, the day, we must accept life’s duality. Every true fae is born with a twin, a rightful counterpart. Three children in one birthing is unheard of. Forbidden. Taboo.

Three parts of one whole cannot exist.

“You’re frowning,” Day points out, his voice musical in the stuffy air. “Do I not look dashing in my ceremonial robes?” He extends his hand and I lower my gaze for the first time. He is right. Instead of the usual green garments that are a hallmark of house Aurelius, he wears silk in a brighter emerald hue, trimmed in gold.

Ceremonial robes. He showed me them once before, years ago, though they were far less ornate back then. Simple robes to mark his transition from a young Dawn to an adult Day. I wish I could have seen him then, standing tall before the elder council. Oh, how brave he must have looked, with our sister Day beside him—hissister. Day Aurelius and Day Aurelia. Were I included, I’m not even sure what moniker would be left for me to take.

Therefore, I technically have no name, though I devised one for me in secret. It feels like a small, invisible ball of warmth tucked next to my heart, known only to me. Maybe one day I will tell it to Day.

Maybe one day.

“You look so grown up,” I say instead. “Accomplished.”

“You’ve been learning new words without me,” he scolds, but his tone is playful.

“Yes.” Again, I almost smile. “I found an old thesaurus the other day. I will read it to you.”

The back of my neck prickles as if warning of the Lord Master’s disapproval—but what the high elder doesn’t know does not hurt. I use my skills only to further my work in the archives.

ButifI were discovered, my sin alone wouldn’t be exposed. It was Day who taught me this rare, special magic: how to convert these strange runes written on old parchment into sounds. Then words. Then stories.

“Perhaps later.” He nods, stroking his chin, now absent of any hair. One day—in decades perhaps—he will grow a beard before transitioning into the role of Night of House Aurelius. For now, his youth is his crowning glory unblemished. The planes of his handsome features are devoid of any wrinkle or flaw, and his red hair gleams like a living flame.

“Though I amaccomplished,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with pride. “After the ceremony, I will have a place on the high council. A true place.”

“With Day Aurelia,” I add.

His lips quirk downward. “Day Aurelia,” he repeats, but his tone is flat. “She won’t enjoy the role like you would.”

Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach. I turn away and dust the books nearest me with my bare fingers. These old books remind me much of myself, abandoned in the dark, cared for only out of necessity. However, it doesn’t make them any less valuable than the sparkly volumes on display on the higher levels. They hold their own secrets and hidden bits of knowledge. To those who care enough to seek them out, they matter. Maybe once every few centuries, but it’s vital all the same.

“She won’t,” Day continues, his eyes narrowed. “She will be too busy sneering at the others to tend to our duties. Such arrogance is beneath House Aurelius. She has no humility. No pride in her modest role as a woman. Some days it’s as if she thinks herself anAurelius—not an Aurelia.” He scowls, and my heart pangs with guilt.

“Then it is your role to guide her,” I say gently, but I understand his frustration. The role of a fae is their only purpose, and that of an Aurelia is to support her fellow Day. To be beautiful and fleeting. To be honorable and obedient.

“She is not easily guided,” he grunts, shrugging off the suggestion. “She doesn’t listen to a word I say. She’s defiant. Flighty. Easily distracted by trivial things.Youwould enjoy the main Citadel beyond these walls.”

I can’t stop myself from sighing in longing. I’ve only glimpsed bits and pieces of the famed Citadel city, heart of our society, in old volumes and through the windows. And…

From the roof.

The Citadel proper is the building at the city’s center where all ceremonies take place—a huge, sprawling complex mockingly close. The main chamber is meant to be crafted out of pure black stone. Breathtaking is the only word to describe it.

“See?” Day prods. “You would enjoy it, and you would know your place;bymy side and not in front.”

He nods in approval at the imagery, but it seems like an unimaginable fantasy to me. Even now, to walk behind Day would be an honor well beyond my reach.

“How can I interact with those I am not allowed to speak to?” I ask of the row of books before me.

Day scoffs. “Hypothetically, of course. In this imaginary world you would be allowed to. By my side, no one would dare deny you anything—” He curls a fist, and his lips quirk upwards. Almost a smile. “I would be respected. They would have no choice.”

A world where I would have been born a normal fae. It stings to think about. Perhaps it’s just the remnants of my punishment that plague me so? My back is sore, chafing with every brush of my robe’s coarse material. Restless, I slink deeper into the shadows where I know Day won’t follow. The dark unnerves him. Threatens. Fae belong in the daylight, relishing in the open sky and taking wing in the sun’s warm rays. Only unwanted creatures seek the dark for shelter. Vermin and vamryre and, of course, me.

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